The Other Side of the World
by CRMurphy
Summary: Worlds collide when a boy from California discovers secrets from his mother's past that leads him across the world to Hogwarts.
1. Ch 1: Bad News from Abroad

_so i have been trying to write this for a really long time but i've been able to do it just right quite yet, but this time is feels better. so yeah, i hope that you enjoy it and please revieeeeeew! thanks_

**Ch 1: Bad News from Abroad**

YELLOW LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE WINDOW and pooled on the floor, spilling across stacks of books and suspicious items in glass bottles. A dark figure sat alone on a sagging chair, his black hair dangling around his face while he stared down at a weathered photograph that was clenched between two white fists. He didn't raise his head to look at the musty mess that was his home and he didn't even glance up when a cat's yowl sounded from the street.

Unconsciously he reached into a pocket that was buried deep in his black robes and removed a small object, which he clenched as he stared at the photograph as if wishing to fall into it. He opened his fist, a small gold ring rested in the middle of his palm. He sighed heavily, on the photograph was a picture of a smiling woman with dark skin and large brown eyes. She was glancing from the pallid man beside her that was barely mustering a smile and the camera. Her face was young and there was an unmistakable dark beauty mark above the left corner of her lip. The man beside her was a much younger version of the man that sat gazing at her, his eyes dark and his face unreadable in the quiet of an empty house.

His form slouched with grief, the fireplace was still warm, but no longer alight after the news that was just delivered to him through it. This woman was part of a past that he had nearly forgotten, but now he had been shaken by a new grief, this one as fresh and raw as anything else that he could remember. He knew that he had to do something, sitting here was tearing him up inside, he knew that he would have to say goodbye. Say goodbye for the second and most final time.


	2. Ch 2: Bad News at Home

_so this chapter has a little more meat and a little more excitement than the first. hope you enoy it!_

**Ch 2: Bad News at Home**

"JEROME, WHERE'S YOUR JACKET?" AUNT ELENA ASKED for the third time, she snapped her lacquered fingers in front of his face. Her nails were painted bright pink and detailed with tiny silver jewels and her black shirt was lacy and see through. She picked up her own jacket from the table made of obviously fake wood, nearly knocking over a cheap plastic lamp with tacky tassels hanging from it.

"Boy, I know that you are sad, but you've got to get it together just for today," she said in Spanish, brushing her curly black hair over her shoulder. Like most of his mother's side of the family, Elena lived half of her life in Mexico and the other half was spent living in southern California where she spoke mainly Spanish. She had never really learned that much English, nor did she really have any desire to.

Elena untangled her hoop earring from her hair, and then lowered her hands to her hips when she noticed that Jerome was staring at her with a blank stare again. "Romey, honestly, where is your jacket?"

He blinked and forced his mouth to form an answer, "In my bag behind the couch."

"Gracias!" Elena said, then disappeared to the living room, kicking children's toys out of the way with her heeled shoes as she went. Romey had been living on Elena's couch for the last two weeks, since the accident, because she didn't have any extra beds. She had three kids and two fulltime jobs and a husband in prison so she was really straining herself having him there, but he knew that she would do anything for her sister and nephew, even if it killed her.

Elena came clopping back into the kitchen, his jacket pulled over one arm. "Up, up, Jerome, we should have left for the funeral five minutes ago."

"I don't know if I want to go," Romey said, his voice faint and distant sounding. His Spanish was fluent, but unlike Elena he was fluent in English as well. The perks of going to public school in California.

There was a sigh from Elena, "I didn't pay for a babysitter for the babies just for you to sit here and mope." She had to pay for a babysitter even though she would usually leave her kids with another member of the family, but they were all at the funeral. "Get up, we're leaving." Elena was generous and loving, but soft and sweet, definitely not.

Romey bit the inside of his cheek, he knew better than to kid himself, he would have to go to the funeral or always regret it. He stood up and Elena went to work putting his arms through the sleeves of his coat and buttoning the front. The coat was loaned from a cousin, it was clearly cheaply made and stained a little on the edges of the sleeves.

"Alright," Elena said, "Let's go." She directed him outside to her small car, it was a two door beater with a broken side window taped over with a clear trash bag and duct tape. Romey settled into the passenger seat and Elena into the driver's, she pulled out of the drive way too fast and sped down the street lined with low-income housing, faded plastic toys, and broken lawn furniture. The music was too loud, but Elena didn't bother turning it down. Romey knew that he could've turned it down, but he was more worried about the awkward silence than inappropriate-to-the-occasion music. The awkward silence would come from the unspoken conversation about their current situation, Romey couldn't crash on her couch for the rest of his life. She couldn't afford to keep him there even though he knew that she would try until she ran herself into the ground if he asked her to. But he didn't know where else he would go, he had no money and his only job had been at a burrito stand which he had surely been fired from after not showing up since the accident.

"We're here," Elena said, slamming the car into park and pulling out her keys. Romey got out of the car and shut the door behind him, not realizing that he had forgot to roll up the window. "Go on in," Elena said, eying the open window. She would have to unlock the car and then roll it up, car thieves were desperate in this part of town, even her junky car was at risk. Romey nodded numbly, this meant that he would be walking in alone. At least they were late so he probably missed all the conversations and he didn't mind walking in after the sermon had already started. He walked toward the building, not really paying attention to where he was headed. After nearly tripping on the front steps, he finally made his way through the front door and into the lobby. The air conditioner whirred from some far off place, but the room was still hot. He glanced around, there was a large poster with his mom's face on it and plastic flowers were arranged around it. Her eyes were large and brown and her black hair was straightened, she had a huge smile and a brown dot above the left side of her lip. He remembered the picture, it was for a magazine that was featuring the newest minds in the spell creation business, which was her job and passion. She was the pride of the family, being an accomplished spell writer who was even able to study at a prestigious school in England. She was also the black sheep in the family, she was the only one to hook up with a random gringo on the other side of the world and come back with a child and instead of immediately finding a family-approved husband and having more kids she wound up with an impressive career as a single mom.

Romey sighed, there was no use standing out here for the whole service. He pushed the door open and walked into the crowded room where the service was being held. A young priest was talking at the front of the room, he was speaking in Spanish but he had an accent like someone who could speak perfect English as well. The room was packed, all the folding chairs were filled and there was a clump of people pressed against the back wall. He was going to slide into the crowd and disappear, but too many people recognized him and before he knew what he was doing someone had offered their seat and pushed him into it.

The priest was continuing, Romey couldn't concentrate on his words because there were two more of those giant pictures of his mom on either side of the man that kept stealing his attention. To distract himself he looked around the room at the other guests, the same group of people who had attended every wedding, quinceanera, and holiday party ever thrown. Mixed in the usual family and extended family were a few friends of his mom's that used to work with her before the accident, they looked just as dark faced and miserable as the family. He glanced again at the crowd, there was one man here that he didn't recognize. He was a white man with black hair, sitting perfectly still in the row behind and to the side of Romey. His eyes were dark and his nose hooked and Romey knew for a fact that he had never seen him before, which bothered him slightly. He narrowed his eyes at the man, hoping that he would feel the resentment and leave, but suddenly someone was shaking his arm.

"Such a beautiful service," an elderly voice said in his ear.

Romey turned to see Rosita, who was a great aunt or something, "It's not over yet," he replied.

She pointed at the front of the room, the priest was nowhere to be seen. "Oh," Romey replied lamely.

With a wrinkled hair she patted his leg and gave him a watery smile before getting to her feet and disappearing into the crowd. He was about to do the same when a short man approached him, the man was wearing a shabby navy blue jacket and black pants that were a little too short so his white socks could peek out. "Jerome," he said in a voice that sounded like he was panting even though he hadn't exerted any energy.

"Hola, Senor Velasquez," Romey said without much enthusiasm, he recognized the man as one of his mom's work friends.

He glanced around nervously. "Jerome," he repeated, "I am so sorry about Maria."

"Me too."

"Listen," he didn't seem to have heard Romey's answer. "Maria- your mom, that is, left this. I-I think that you should have it." He pulled an envelope out of his jacket and pushed it into Romey's hands. "It's only right."

Romey accepted it because he was so used to having things pushed at him lately, mostly because he was too dazed and numb to realize what he was doing most the time. "What is it?" he finally asked.

"Keep it to yourself and keep it safe, you hear?" and with that he pushed back into the crowd. Romey was confused and tried to follow him, but paused when he saw the tall white man from the service. He was trying to leave the service without making eye contact with anyone, though he was already sticking out like a sore thumb. Romey pushed after him.

"What are you doing here?" he called after him.

The man turned and stared at him, apparently bewildered. Romey looked him up and down, the heavy black robes were completely uncharacteristic of the warm California weather. He clearly wasn't from around here.

Romey rephrased his question by putting it into English. "I said, what are you doing here?"

The man glanced around, apparently trying to think of the most neutral answer so he could slip away from this confrontation as easily as possible.

"Hey, I asked you a question," Romey said, "You can't just come to my mom's funeral and wander around like this and expect no one to stop you."

This caught the man completely off guard, "Maria had children?"

"Yeah," Romey snapped, "Obviously. Hey man, did you even know her?"

"I knew her, a long time ago, that is," he said. His accent was strange, it was like something he had heard out of movies, but he couldn't remember where he had heard it.

"How many children did she have?" he asked in a slow, deliberate voice that seemed a little like he was trying to control it.

"Just me," Romey replied, "How well did you know her?"

"Very well," the man said, "She went to school with me."

"Not around here she didn't. There's no way that you have been around these parts before," he looked the man up and down again for emphasis.

The man looked annoyed, "Not here. I went to school with her in England."

That's where he had heard the accent before, in movies about England. How could he have forgotten about that? "That was a long time ago," Romey said.

"Yes," the man agreed, "a very long time ago."

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know, anything about-" he trailed off trying to think about how to word this, but realized very quickly that this was his only chance to ask, which would be one more clue that would help him piece together what he had been wondering about his whole life. "-anyone that my mom, Maria, was, you know, dating or anything?"

The man's face blanched, turning even more pale than the originally pallid color. "What did you say?"

"I was just wondering about anyone special that she was seeing, I mean, if you remember," he said. He knew that it was a horrible idea to be digging up things about his father at his mom's funeral, but if he didn't ask now would he ever get the chance again?

The man pressed a hand to his mouth. "You mean that you don't know who your father is?"

Romey shrugged, "Some deadbeat from England I guess. Mom never really talks about it. Talked about it." It was hard to remember to talk about his mom in the past tense. "So do you know the guy or what?"

"Well," the man said through gritted teeth. "I guess that I was dating her."

It was Romey's turn to pale. "You weren't." This guy was a creeper.

"I was," the man said, straightening his cloak as if insulted by Romey's comment.

"Who else was?" Romey asked hopefully.

The man glared at him, "Just me."

Romey shook his head, the man stared at him. They stared at each other, each realizing the same thing at the same time, but each were unable to force themselves to say it out loud.

"Noyou'renot," Romey finally forced out of his lips as he turned on his heel and walked away as quickly as possible. Fortunately the man didn't even attempt to follow.

Romey's heart was racing as he pushed past the guests, he tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other to keep himself from getting the full blow of the magnitude of his recent discovery. He bit his thumbnail as he walked, this was too much to take in for a normal day. And this was the furthest thing from a normal day, this was his mom's funeral. This was too hard for a normal person to bear.

"Jerome, come on," Elena said, coming up behind him and tapping him on the shoulder with one of his long finger nails. "You want to get going?"

Romey looked at her, blinking slowly. "Uh, yeah, sure."

Elena gave him a watery smile as she directed him back toward her car, which was still parked out front. "Do you want to go get something to eat or something?"

"I'm not really hungry."

She nodded, "I understand, honey, how about I just take you straight home."

He shrugged, that didn't sound much better, but nothing sounded good right now. What was he supposed to say about that man? He didn't have any proof that they were related and he didn't have the slightest clue how to bring up his suspicions to his already overstressed aunt so he followed her silently to the car. The next few days passed much the same way, Elena offering food and Romey quietly refusing.

Finally, a week and a half after the funeral, Elena finally pushed her last plate of homemade enchiladas at him and when he refused to touch them it seemed like the last straw. Romey was lying on the couch, staring at the television while some special about grizzly bears played. He hadn't changed out of his pajamas for the fourth day in a row, in fact he hadn't even moved off the couch for anything but the bathroom and to turn up the air conditioner because the California summer was murderously hot.

"Jerome, why don't you at least taste this?" Elena said, waving the plate in front of his face. "You haven't eaten for days."

"I have," Romey muttered in monotone.

"Yeah? When?" Elena asked, one hand on her hip and a scowl on her face.

His eyes rolled back to the TV, "Yesterday."

"Romey!" Elena snapped, looking at the TV and then back at him. When he didn't look up at her she whipped around and walked to the TV and slammed the power button. The screen went black and she turned again. "Romey. I can't stand to see you sitting around like this, wasting your life away on my couch."

"Yeah," Romey said absently.

Elena narrowed her eyes at him. "Romey are you even listening to me?"

"Yeah."

"Romey!" she shouted, slamming down the plate on the chipped coffee table that rested directly in front of the couch. "You've got to listen to me! You are really starting to worry me!"

He jumped slightly at the sound of the plate hitting the table, "What?" he asked groggily.

"Listen to me!" she yelled. "You haven't moved for days. You just lie around watching TV and I can't stand it anymore!"

"I'm sorry," Romey said.

"I know, but this has got to change," she replied. "You've got to get up and keep going. You're too young to let this kill you."

Romey shrugged slightly.

"Listen, I'm hurt by Maria's death too," Elena said with a sigh, "She was my sister. She was my friend. But things won't get any better until you get off the couch."

"Okay," Romey said.

"I really need you to do this for me," she begged, staring at him straight in the eyes. "Please."

He knew that she couldn't let him sleep on this couch forever, he knew that at sometime he would have to get up and put on clothes and get back to life. No one could even use this room while he was lying here, smelling a little bit and taking up the whole couch in this already crowded house. "I'll try," he said.

"Hopefully you can try tomorrow." She leaned forward and handed him a piece of paper, "I applied to this for you. It's a job, it will do you some good."

Romey reached out and took the paper from her hand, he held it in front of his face. It was a pizza delivery job, he could see that.

"My friend owns the place," Elena said. "He was looking for someone who could speak English. I told him that you were fluent."

He didn't know what to do and he was unsure what to say. He didn't want it to be honest, but there was nothing for him here besides his aunt's couch and memories of his mom. "Fine," he finally said.

"Fine?" she asked, surprised. "You mean, you'll do it?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever," he replied.

She smiled, "It's really going to be good for you, I swear. Tomorrow at ten, okay? Be there."

"Sounds great," he said without any emotion. He had always known that he couldn't stay here for much longer, but it was going to be hard to get up and walk away so soon. He guessed it was not really so soon, it just seemed like it. He was trying to not think about his mom or his dad, he was trying not to think about anything as he lay on the couch, but now he would have to face the world. But he just felt tired.

"You'll go, right?" Elena asked.

"Yeah," Romey replied. "I'll go." He closed his eyes, "Tomorrow at ten." She walked out of the room, apparently satisfied with his answer. He heard her in the kitchen, yelling at her kids to eat and not just throw the food on the floor. Romey rolled up to a sitting position, he felt dizzy because he hadn't been up for so long. Then he got to his feet and trudged to the bathroom, it was a very small room that was made smaller by the various bottles and creams of Elena's and the piles of toys from the kids. He looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks, his shaggy black hair was tangled and sticking up at odd angles. His skin, which he usually kept at a dark brown was a lighter shade from all the time spent indoors lately. The bags under his eyes were strange to see, but under them his wide nose and sharp jaw line were as familiar as ever.

He pulled off his tshirt for the shower, when he got out of the warm water fifteen minutes later he felt cleaner but not any better. Somewhere in him he was just registering that his aunt didn't have enough room for him, even if he got a job. That realization was slow and uncomfortable, but he knew it all the same. He toweled dry and as he did he made the decision that he wasn't going to camp out on his aunt's couch anymore, part of him was just waiting for this moment ever since the first night after the accident that he came here. It had only been a matter of time and now that time had come.

At least it was easy to pack up all of his belongings because they were all waded up behind the couch, mostly dirty, of course. He pulled his gym bag and back pack from under the couch and stuffed them both full of clothes. The bags were overflowing, so he kept into the kitchen for a plastic grocery bag while Elena and the kids were out back eating dinner off of the plastic lawn furniture. He filled the bag with clothes and then located a long, thin sport bag with a wide strap that he pulled over his shoulder. In the long bag was his broom, it was a NoHorizon 360, also known as all his wages for the last three years. It was his pride and his joy and if anyone were to touch it he would kill him or her without one second thought.

With his broomstick bag secured he pulled on his backpack and then his gym bag over his other shoulder and his plastic grocery bag in his hand, he slipped out of the door into the hot evening weather.


	3. Ch 3: Decisions, Decisions

end of term papers... bleg... that's what made this chapter so sloooow.. but they're done now and so it the chapter! yay

**Chapter 4: Decisions, Decisions**

THE FIREPLACE CRACKLED LOUDLY, Severus Snape stared at it blankly. He was sitting in an anonymous hotel room somewhere in this busy, tangled web of a country. It was so hot here that Severus couldn't imagine leaving the hotel room during the hours that the sun was out. The fire burning in the hearth was no help either, it was absolutely sweltering even with the air conditioner humming away at the highest setting. He withdrew his wand from his sleeve waved it in the air, clearing the room of most of the unnecessary heat for the moment.

The hotel room was adobe and had an interesting mix of second hand furniture, all nicked up and worn in various places. This was the only nonmuggle hotel in the area and he had really needed a fireplace this afternoon so he had stopped in this flea-bitten hotel and since check-in had occupied most of his time by just trying not to touch anything.

The fire flickered, the orange flames changing to a bright emerald green. Severus dragged his chair a little bit closer to the fireplace and leaned his head close to the flames as the flames formed into eyes, a mouth, a nose, and a pair of half moon spectacles.

"Hello, Professor," Severus said.

"Ah, Severus," the elderly man replied, "How are you doing? The weather's nice in California I hear."

"Too hot," he said.

"Ah, yes, a California summer. I would imagine that it would be incomparable."

"And unbearably hot," Severus repeated. "That's why I'm glad to be leaving tomorrow to head back home."

"Are you sure that you're ready to return home now?"

Severus didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Severus," Dumbledore's voice came through the fireplace as little more than a whisper, but it was stern enough to make Severus hesitate. "What about the boy?"

"The boy? What do I care about him? He's probably not even my- you know, my-" he trailed off, unwilling to bring words to the situation than he and Dumbledore were all to aware of.

"He's Maria's child," Dumbledore replied softly. "And now, for all intents and purposes, he's an orphan."

"But he's not mine," Severus defended. "As far as I know. I don't owe him anything. I don't owe Maria anything either, she just disappeared all those years ago, if you would kindly remember. Now you want me to pick up her vagabond child and do something with him."

"I don't want you to do anything."

He stared at the flames thoughtfully. "You say you don't but I can see that you clearly do. You think that I should find him and talk to him and whatever else your old mind has contrived of."

"I never said anything of the sort." Now Dumbledore was looking through him, his blue eyes were icy and sharp and Severus knew that he could see everything that was racing through his own mind.

"I know what you want me to do. I know that I should do it, I should talk to this kid, but there's nothing good that can come of it. Either the boy is not mine and I have to know how fragile and circumstantial our relationship was or he is mine and then I would have a son. I would be a father, and what would I do with a child?" Severus leaned back in the chair, unable to think of anything else to say at the moment. "He's not even a child really, what is he?" He stopped to count the years in his mind as best he could because some years felt infinitely long and some wonderfully short. "Fifteen?" he asked himself. "Fourteen? What would I do with a teenager?"

"What _would_ you do with a teenager?" he asked.

Severus blinked, "I don't know. I don't want to be faced with the question, to be honest."

"If I may, Severus, that question is a lot closer than you think."

He rubbed his temples and hunched forward in his chair, "I wouldn't know what to say to him."

"That's quite a small thing to stop you from doing what's right, wouldn't you say?"

Severus raised his head and dropped it back down weakly.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got preparations that need to be made for the upcoming semester. If you need anything else, feel free to contact me. Have a good night."

"Day," Severus corrected, due to the time difference. His face gradually flickered and then faded away, the flames returned to their original color. Severus stared at the fireplace for a moment, in case it held anymore words of wisdom for him. It didn't. He knew that he didn't need any more words, it was very clear what he needed to do. Any more justification would only slow him down and he just needed to get this over with.


	4. Ch 4: Alone

welcome to chapter 4... hope you like it...

**Chapter Four: Alone**

ROMEY WALKED DOWN THE STREET, listening to the people around him. They were energetic and cheerful, whereas Romey only felt like a dead person wandering the streets. He had spent the last night walking, pausing only for a few hours to catch some shut eye in a bush at some park. He really felt officially homeless now and also very hungry, he needed a plan and there was no better time than now.

Romey dug a handful of change out of his pocket, looking for a pay phone in the various stores and buildings that was walking past. His bags were getting heavier and heavier and he was getting more and more concerned that this had been a bad idea, but there was really no turning back at this point. He approached the first set of payphones that he saw, they were covered with trash and graffiti and Romey was inclined to believe that they wouldn't work at all. The first payphone was missing the mouthpiece of the phone and the second failed to give a dial tone and the final happened to have both of those things. He silently cursed the laws that forbid underage magic, otherwise he wouldn't have to deal with all this muggle stuff, but as it was he slid two quarters into the payphone and dialed the first number. It was an exgirlfriend that he was calling, they were still on relatively good terms and he knew that she would let him stay at least for a night or two, at least until he figured some things out. He didn't want to stay with anyone in his family because he knew that they would undoubtedly be in touch with Elena.

He couldn't have been any happier when her husky voice answered the phone. A few words were exchanged and he knew that he would have a place to sleep for a little while, it would be a little awkward but better than sleeping in bushes anyways. He set off again, knowing that this was not the part of the city that you lingered too long in if you knew what was best for you.

The exgirlfriend lived on the other side of town, it would take a few hours to walk or forty minutes by bus. He wasn't in any particular rush so he set out walking, this was a part of town that he knew well, having lived in it his whole life. There was an interesting combination of WalMarts and shady burrito stands, but it was familiar and not the least bit interesting and his mind began to wander. A half hour into this walk he was startled by the honk of a car as it pulled up beside him, he turned to see the car that was the source. It was a rusty two door car with a missing front bumper.

"Hey, Romes! What are you doing out here?" a shaved head popped out of the front passenger side window.

"Out here? I'm barely out of my neighborhood," Romey replied, walking up to the car. It was his "cousin" Ramundo, but he was really unsure exactly how they were related.

"C'mon, Romes," Mundo said with a crooked grin, "You know that this is disputed territory."

"Oh, yeah," Romey muttered, it had completely escaped his mind that the gangs here were still upswept in foolish territory battles, which of course, they took very seriously. "I forgot."

"How could you forget? We've been fighting over these streets for weeks, boy, we're out patrolling now. Good thing we found you before they did." He shot him a smile that showed off a gold tooth in the side of his mouth and glanced around shiftily. "They're going to make a move anytime now."

Romey shrugged, "I'll be careful then." He really didn't care, he wasn't in mood to deal with Mundo right now, or ever.

"Come on, man, let us give you a ride." He gestured to the back seat, "We got plenty of room."

Romey didn't want to accept anything from Mundo because once he did he would be in debt and that would mean that he would have to repay it, probably at a time in which he couldn't afford to. He had avoided Mundo and his boys' lifestyle for years and he wanted to keep it that way. "Nah, I'll just keep walking," he replied. "Thanks though, man."

"No, cous, you don't get it. This ground ain't safe," Mundo said, leaning farther out of the window.

"I'm just passing through, they won't bother me," Romey replied. He wasn't stupid, he knew that if the other guys saw him talking to Mundo he was instantly a target, but he didn't see any of them walking around right now.

Mundo shrugged, "C'mon man, don't screw around here," he said. "I'm not playing."

Romey was thinking of his next argument to get Mundo to move on when there was a bang that resonated down the street and bore deep into his ear drums. He jumped on the ground and rolled to the safest place he could find, which happened to be behind a city trash can. He looked up just in time to see Mundo's car go screeching forward, the metal was rusting before his eyes, the bad blue paint job turned to a deep crimson and orange color. A hand gripping a wand poked out of the window and fired a single retaliatory spell before the car disappeared down the street, driving as fast a possible in the crowded street.

Still crouched behind the trash can, Romey poked his head out and glanced around, the bustle of the street was muted, either by the aftermath of the rusting curse or the fear that was now cursing through his veins. He had been stupid not to take the offered ride from Mundo, now he was alone in some territory ran by a bunch of angry, misdirected angry teens, drug dealers, and/or random thugs. Even in the magical world, which overlapped the muggle world so seamlessly in this part of the world, he knew better than to take the gang life lightly. What had he been thinking? he asked himself, resisting the urge to hit himself in the forehead.

He glanced up and down the street, there was no sign of the attackers. Slowly he sunk back down and slid the long, thin bag from his shoulder. He set it on the ground and unzipped it, pulling from the bag his slender broomstick, although it was highly illegal on this street where a muggle might chance to see him, he was more worried about his life at this point in time. With a little bit of skill he managed to get his leg over the broom while still crouched behind the trash can and was about to kick off the ground when he felt a sharp tug on his hair and all he saw was the bright blue of the California sky and then he was lying on his pack on the sticky pavement looking up at five white guys.

"Well, well, well," one said slowly, pausing between the second and third 'well' in order to spit. "What do we have here?"

Romey felt his broom under his heel, he knew that his only chance to get out of this in one piece was to roll the broom towards him and attempt to climb on in without one of these guys grabbing him or shooting him with a spell. Nearly impossible. He rolled the broom toward him, but it was too slow, one of the white guys bent down and picked it up.

"Nice broom," one of the guys said. "A NoHorizon, these come out of Colorado, right?"

"Yeah man," another guy said, leaning in and looking at it closely. "They're expensive. What's a scrawny Mexican like you doing with such a fancy piece of equipment?"

"Ten bucks that he stole it from some nice white boy," a third put in.

"It's only right then, that we take it back," said the one that was holding it. "No dirty Mexican should go around with somethin' like this. He wouldn't appreciate it."

Romey clenched his jaw at the insult to his race but was wise enough not to retaliate.

"Look boys, I bet that he doesn't even speak a lick of English, do you?" He poked Romey's cheek with the toe of his boot.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong," Romey said, "Give me my broom back and I'll walk away right now."

They all had a group chuckle at this, "I don't think that you'll be doing much walking anytime soon," one said.

Romey thought of wand, pushed down into the bottom of his gym bag and close to completely inaccessible. "Well," he replied, his voice stronger than he felt, "you can do what you want to me, but don't take my broom."

Another group laugh as they stared down at him. One of the guys reached down and pulled him to his feet, "We're going to have to leave a message for the rest of your people, this street is ours. They'd better stay off it, y'hear?"

"I hear you," Romey said, "I don't really care, actually. I don't want it." He struggled to get his footing under the heavy grasp of the man.

"Your people want it," a man announced. He swung back his fist and let it fly at Romey's face. "And your people have already taken enough from the white people, wouldn't you say?"

"Technically," Romey replied, blood trickling down his upper lip into his mouth, "The Aztecs and Mayans were here long before any white people so if anyone has a right to be pissed-" He was cut off by a blow to his stomach, apparently the men weren't interested in a history lesson. Romey tried to think of something besides the punching and the squishy sound of their fists making contact with his body as he flopped around like a fish in the strong grasp of one of the guys who had his arms securely pinned behind his back. He tried to ignore the flashing, sickening pain of his body, which was nothing compared to the sinking feeling that he got when he thought of the fate of his NoHorizon 360.

He was just about to give into unconsciousness, a thankful escape, when though his puffy eyelids he saw a tall man in black appear on the scene, his wand held high above his head. Romey felt the grip on his arms slacken and he tumbled to the ground in a bloody heap. Looking up, he muttered to the man in black who was chillingly familiar, "My broom. My broom."

There were flashes of light, the man wasted no time dispersing the gang, they barely put up a fight. Romey couldn't think of anything but his precious broom, not even the pounding in every part of his body could distract him. The man in black knelt beside him, "You're going to be fine. You're going to be alright," he said through tight lips.

"I know," he replied, "but what about my broom?"

He felt a long, hard item being pressed into his hands and he glanced down to see his fingers wrapped around his broom handle. He let out a happy sigh and let himself slip into a stiff, uncomfortable sleep.


	5. Ch 5: Sleeping and Waking and Sleeping

_And heeeeere's the next chapter :D_

**Ch 5: Sleeping and Waking and Sleeping**

HIS EYES FLUTTERED OPEN, he saw the white of the ceiling and the round light fixture attached to it. With a tremendous amount of effort, he pulled himself up to a sitting position and lifted his hand to his face, besides being a little puffy his skin felt fine. He glanced around the room, it was a hotel room with cheap furniture and a fireplace in one corner. Sitting next to the fireplace was the man in black, his dark hair falling to his shoulder as he stared into the empty flames. Romey looked down at his jeans, they were splattered with rust colored blood all the way to the torn sneakers on his feet.

He must've been staring at his legs too long because when he looked up again the man was staring at him. "How are you feeling?" he said, not rising from his chair in front of the fireplace.

Romey shrugged, "Fine I guess."

"Good." An awkward silence descended on the room, it was full of all the things that neither wanted to say.

"How did you find me?" he asked, "I mean, it's probably a good thing that you did, but how did you do it?"

"Luck," the man deferred the question, "Why did you leave your Aunt's house like that? She was worried sick."

Romey picked at the thin leg of his jeans. "I couldn't stay with her forever," he answered.

"She said that she wanted you to stay."

"Yeah, and live on her couch forever? No body wants that," Romey said. He kicked his feet off the bed. "Well, thanks for saving me or whatever from those guys, but I'm going to get going."

"Where are you going to?" the man asked, he didn't seem too concerned about it but Romey had a feeling that it was an act.

He shrugged, "A friend's. Just until I figure some things out."

The man leaned back in his chair, "What do you need to figure out?"

"You know, where to live and stuff," he replied, "Not that it's your business or anything."

"It is. Maria was a friend of mine, whether or not you're my-" he paused, unable to say it, then after a brief struggle decided to move on. "I owe Maria, and subsequently you, my help when I can manage it."

"I don't need your help, pal," Romey said. He looked wildly around the room for his bags and his broom.

The man snorted, "That's not what it seemed to be earlier today. You certainly seemed like you needed my help then."

Romey rolled his eyes, "What? With those half-brained thugs? That was my fault, I shouldn't have been walking around like an idiot like that. I definitely learned my lesson on that one."

"Even so, you need someone to look out for you-"

"No," Romey said, pulling himself to his feet, "I really don't. I don't even know you, I mean, you're some stranger that claims to know my mom and brings me back to some sketchy hotel room. I think that I can do better."

"Don't start behaving like this," the man said, "I was only trying to help you."

Romey crossed the room, "Where are my bags?" he asked, circling the room looking for them. He was suddenly feeling very tired, probably the aftermath of the spells that had been used to fix him up. "I'm out of here."

"You should probably sit down, you're still going to kind of sick from the healing that I did," the man said, standing up.

He reached up and pressed a hand against the side of his head, the other hand gripped the back of a scuffed wooden chair. His vision was spinning as he tried to keep his footing, then he felt himself falling and heard the thump of his body against the thin carpeting. He held his hands over his closed eyes as he tried to calm his breathing because he was practically panting.

The man knelt down beside him, "Now, should I get your bags so you can stumble out of here with no place to go or shall I put you back on the bed?"

"Bed," Romey croaked, though it was with the utmost humiliation.

"If I do this for you will you do as I say?" he said.

"Whatever," Romey replied, pressing his hands harder on his eyelids.

The man grasped him by the wrists and peeled back his hands, "No, I want you to promise to mind me."

Romey looked up at him, his eyes followed the ridge of his hooked nose and thought of how similar it was to his own. He sighed, "Fine. I'll mind you or whatever."

Apparently satisfied by that, the man flicked out his wand and waved it over Romey, who promptly floated up and landed softly on the bed with only the slightest creaking of the springs in the mattress.

"One thing though," Romey said before his eyelids became too heavy to lift again, "What is your name?"

The man chuckled, "Severus Snape," he replied, "Sleep now, it will do you good."

Romey closed his eyes, his thought was that he hoped that the man wasn't his father because the last thing he wanted was to have a last name like that.


	6. Ch 6: The Way Things Are

**Chapter 6: The Way Things Are**

IT WAS HOURS BEFORE Romey awoke next, this time he woke to the all too familiar scent of fast food. He sat up, still fully clothed and sleeping on top of the worn hotel comforter and glanced around the room for the source of the tantalizing scent. His eyes felt puffy from sleep and his head felt fuzzy, but generally he felt pretty good, he was mildly impressed with the healing skills of Severus Snape.

"Feeling better?" the cold voice of Snape came from the corner of the room.

Romey nodded and rubbed the side of his head. "Yeah, actually."

"Hungry?" he said, pointing to the small hotel table that was topped with a few paper bags, from which the smell was radiating. Romey climbed out of the bed, careful not to move too fast and picked up the first bag. It was a mix of burritos, tacos, and greasy nachos that had freed themselves from their plastic container and were floating around the bag aimlessly. Nothing had ever looked so good, Romey dumped the whole greasy mess onto the table and unwrapped a burrito, "You gonna eat too?" he asked, looking up at Severus.

The man stood up and moved closer to the table, he looked down at the food with a slight grimace. "Is there anything not covered in grease?" he said as he sat down primly beside Romey.

"Probably not, my people love to fry and Americans don't really object, you know what I mean?" He smiled and unwrapped the burrito and bit into it, it was the most tasty thing that had ever hit his tongue.

Severus raised an eyebrow, "Your people?" he asked as he slowly unwrapped his burrito and folded the paper wrapping out on the table like a thin, paper plate. From his wand he produced a knife and fork, which he picked up in his pale hands and began to primly cut his food.

"Yeah," Romey said, distracted for a minute by his strange eating habits, "My people. Maria was Mexican, in case you hadn't noticed."

"She just-" Severus trailed off, "-didn't act like it. While she was at Hogwarts anyways."

Romey shrugged and continued eating. "So when are you headed back to England anyways?"

Severus paused, his hands poised, about to rip open a packet of hot sauce. "I'm not sure."

"You don't want that sauce, man," Romey said, ripping open an identical packet and squirting it on his burrito and then reaching for another. "You are going back, right?"

"Yes, I can't stand this heat," Severus replied. "What's wrong with the hot sauce?"

Romey ripped open the other packet and dabbed some on the top of his burrito, "Trust me, it's too hot for a first timer. And I'm fairly sure that you're a first timer."

Severus sneered at him slightly and squirted the contents of the packet onto his food. "My date of return also depends on you. I want you to come to England with me."

Romey was preparing to enjoy Severus' face when he took a big taste of the sauce, but he was not ready to hear the words that had just come from his lips, he almost choked. He wanted to think of something to say but nothing in his fourteen, almost fifteen, years of life had prepared him for this moment. It was all too shocking, quick and incredibly painful to be processed at this time. "Listen, man, I don't know what you think," that was a lie because he knew exactly what Severus thought. "But I can't just pick up and, you know, go."

"I wouldn't have asked if you hadn't already picked up and, you know, left," Severus responded, a little bit mocking at the end of his sentence. It was apparent that he believed that it was really a simple matter and that Jerome was making a scene for no real reason.

Romey fumbled around for words for a moment, "But I don't even know you," he finally said. But that wasn't even what was the most strange about this situation, the fact that this man had come out of nowhere didn't bother him as much as the rapid change that was happening in his life. He wasn't able to keep up with his life in his mind, his head was spinning so fast, trying to take in the new information that seemed to be physically hitting him with rapid speed. "I-I don't know what else to say," he said quietly.

"Just say that you'll come back with me," Severus prompted, "I teach at a school and you can attend there, it's the same school that your mother attended."

"Hogwarts?" Romey bit his lip thoughtfully. This offer was tempting.

"Yes. It is a good school."

He nodded, "Yeah, uh, yeah I guess I'll go. I mean, yeah, what else am I doing?" He felt like he was babbling.

A thin, small smile twisted his lips up. It was a sad attempt at a smile, but it certainly looked to be genuine. "Good. The semester starts in three weeks."

"Oh. Okay," Romey answered. He paused, what did that mean? What would he do with himself for three weeks, surely Snape wouldn't want him hanging around, right? The words hung awkwardly in his mind as he stared at Snape. "What do you want me to do for three weeks?" he finally asked.

"Come back with me, of course," Snape replied. "Unless there are things here that you need to take care of first?"

Romey shrugged, "I guess not. I mean, since I'm not going to school here anymore I guess that I can go whenever."

Snape gave a sharp nod. It was impossible to discern what he was thinking or feeling, Romey felt strange to be sitting alone in the same room as someone that was so completely unreadable and distant.

"Do you want to see if we can catch a portkey for London tonight?" Snape said.

Romey shrugged, "Yeah, I just need a shower first."

"Do you need to say goodbye to anyone?"

"No." Romey was quick to answer, he knew that Snape would probably want him to say something to Aunt Elena so she would know where he was, but he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do less. She would probably convince him to stay here because, after all, it was kind of stupid to trust a stranger to take him to a different continent. It was almost like Snape was reading his mind.

"Your aunt?" he asked simply.

Romey gave him a look, "She'll be fine. I'll write her a letter once I settle down."

"That is not exactly the most responsible plan." Snape looked down at his plate, he seemed to be slightly surprised that there was a burrito in front of him. He seemed to have forgotten that it was there, he eyed it suspiciously as if it had suddenly appeared there on its own accord. Using the plastic fork and knife from a package, Snape prepared to dig into his burrito.

Romey shrugged, "Then I guess that I am not very responsible." His stomach was feeling full and heavy of greasy and salty food. "Why are you eating your burrito with a fork and knife?"

Snape smacked the table on either side of the burrito plate with the flimsy handles of his plastic silverware. "I don't eat like a heathen. That's why. Are you going to keep complaining about it or can we talk about something serious for a moment?" he asked, annoyance clear on his voice.

"I'm talking about serious things, I just can't help but notice-" Romey muttered. Snape was a little strange, he seemed to be very intense and often irritable. He shrugged, it wasn't worth pursuing the topic.

Snape raised his eyebrows, looking rather satisfied with Romey's silence and he lifted his fork and knife and picked up a piece of burrito. He bit into the messy food and chewed slightly. No sooner had he started to chew then his eyes seemed to triple in size, his white cheeks flushed a brilliant red and he reached blindly for a cup of soda that was sitting on the table, buried somewhere under the pile of wrappers and spare hot sauce packets.

Romey covered his smile with a hand and then grabbed the soda with the other, he pushed it towards Snape with only a small giggle that managed to sneak out.

Snape didn't seem to notice because he was spitting and gasping for breath so frantically. He snatched up the soda and started drinking it down as quickly as possible.

Romey had to use his other hand to try to press his laughter back into his mouth. "I told you not to use so much of that hot sauce." He started laughing in earnest as Snape jumped to his feet and disappeared into the hotel bathroom. Romey let the laughter die from his lips while the water in the bathroom turned on, he reached over and picked up the burrito. He doubted that Snape would want it any more with the hot sauce on it and it would be stupid to let it go to waste. Munching on it quietly he tried to let his mind slow down and relax, the frantic thoughts were giving him a headache.

Snape returned to the room a little bit later, he had recomposed himself and was stiffly going about his business, his hands working at some imaginary problem in his suitcase. That only made the whole situation funnier, Snape's inability to laugh it off. His awkwardness made things practically hilarious.

Romey laughed quietly, covering his mouth with his hand as he snickered, but generally he kept his laughter from bursting out, which was probably a good idea because Snape was looking rather on edge from the humiliation of the burrito incident. One look from his dark eyes let Romey know that he should probably let this one go without comment. He disappeared into the bathroom and treated himself to a hot shower and a good teeth brushing. When he stepped back into the room, Snape had all his and Romey's luggage piled by the door, his careful eyes were scanning a map but glanced up when Romey entered the room wearing fresh, clean clothes that were thankfully blood free.

"I talked to some people, we can catch a five thirty portkey if we hurry," Snape said.

Romey glanced at the blocky red numbers on the clock beside the bed, it was three now. He nodded but Snape wasn't looking, he didn't seem like he cared if Romey was ready to leave then or not.

"We don't need a map," Romey said, "I know how to get there."

Snape glanced up, his hands already folding up the map, "Alright." Romey heard the word, but Snape didn't act like he really believed him because he slid the map into an easily accessible pocket. Romey resisted the urge roll his eyes with frustration at Snape.

"Let's get going," Snape said, picking up a few bags. He had two old fashioned suitcases and he picked up one of Romey's bags, which happened to be the plastic grocery bag stuffed with clothes. He gave it a disapproving glance but didn't say anything as Romey picked up his other bags, paying special attention to the bag with his broom inside as he carefully swung it over his shoulder.


	7. Ch 7: So Far Away

**Ch 8: So Far Away**

THEY LEFT THE HOTEL IN SILENCE, stopping only briefly by the front desk to drop off the plastic key card, then they walked out into the hot California weather. Romey trotted along comfortably, this was his city and his weather, he loved when it was hot like this. Snape clearly was not enjoying it at all, he was sweating and panting and walking noticeably slower in the shady patches on the sidewalk. And as was quickly becoming the basis of their relationship, Romey remained silent.

They walked a few blocks, then hopped on a bus, he navigated quickly and efficiently through the crowded streets, and Snape dragging behind him. They passed an assortment people in suits clutching Starbucks coffee cups, teenagers in baggy clothes with chains around their necks, bums sleeping in doorsteps, and Romey glanced over them absentmindedly, his eyes familiar to these surroundings. He passed a group of police and kept his head down while he tried to hear what was going on. Someone was shot he was pretty sure, but he couldn't tell much more than that, but with crimes like this he moved past the growing crowd quickly.

"What's all that about?" Snape asked quietly, pointing at the mess of cops and the curious people trying to see what was going on.

"Shooting," Romey said, not slowing his pace.

"A what?"

"It's a muggle thing," Romey replied. "Messy."

Snape nodded, though he didn't really understand. "Strange."

Romey shrugged, he stopped at a bus stop just as the bus pulled up and screeched to a stop. Romey, Snape, and the others waiting at the bus stop piled on, Romey paid for himself and for Snape with a crumpled five dollar bill because he figured that Snape didn't really know much about his currency. He pocketed his change and pushed Snape farther back into the bus, but it was so crowded that there wasn't really anywhere to go. Romey wrapped his hand around one of loops that were hanging from the roof, it was one of the few that weren't broken. Snape looked vaguely uncomfortable because he was crammed between two women that were either hookers or just really liked thick makeup, torn pantyhose and ridiculously high heels. For the third time today Romey had to swallow laughter.

At their stop they had to elbow their way off the bus, but once they were out on the street, there were slightly fewer people, but it was still busy. In silence, they approached a large cement building, Romey fished an ID card out of his jeans pocket as they neared the tall chain-link fence that surrounded the building. He walked up to a rusty spot in the fence next to a broken down drinking fountain and dropped the ID card into the water fountain.

"Do you have your passport?" he asked, turning to Snape, who was trying to pull it out of his pocket while still holding onto both suitcases and Romey's bag. Finally he retrieved it and handed it to Romey, who promptly dropped it into the water fountain with his. Romey pulled out his wand and tapped the drinking fountain twice, after doing so there was loud beep and Romey stepped into the rusty part of the fence. Snape followed after him and they both found themselves inside the gate. Romey walked over to a water fountain that matched the one out front and picked up both his ID card and Snape's passport, he tossed the passport to Snape, who caught it clumsily.

That settled, they made their way into the cement building, which, from the inside, was cavernous and made of polished marble. It was bustling, witches and wizards filled the space, they were dressed in an interesting mix of wizard and muggle clothes. Once they were in, Romey didn't know where to go, that was all up to Snape, who seemed to be happy to be in control. He led the way and Romey followed obediently, Snape paid for both of their tickets and started towards the gate for the portkey.

As they walked, Romey had an important question for Snape. "Did you want to pay you back for the ticket?" he asked, he really hoped that he wouldn't because he really couldn't afford something like this.

Snape glanced at him, "No," he replied promptly. "Was that a serious question?"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't want to be a mooch or anything." He shrugged, this was kind of awkward.

"It is not a problem," Snape said.

"Okay." Romey was not sorry to lapse into silence as they found the gate. There was still a long time until they were scheduled to leave and it was clear that neither knew what to do for the hour they had to wait, so Romey found a comfortable spot on the floor, curled up and feigned sleep though he wasn't tired at all. Snape withdrew a book from his luggage and stood to read it because there were no chair unoccupied and he refused to sit on the floor. The hour dragged by, but finally a magically magnified voice announced that the gate was opened and all passengers should make their way inside.

Romey hopped to his feet, forgetting that he was supposed to be pretending to be sleeping, and Snape stored his book away. They walked into the room where their tickets were checked and they sat in a circle around a chipped teapot with faded red flowers painted on the sides. The teapot had "London, England" written on the side in a loopy script. There were about ten other passengers so it was crowded around the teapot as everyone planted a fingertip on the side. They were still adjusting their luggage when there was a series of beeps that counted out ten seconds and then they were lifted up in a sickly spinning motion, Romey couldn't make anything out of the blur that ensued for what seemed like the next half hour, but he knew was only half that time.

They landed with a thump in England, people let out shrieks as their luggage tumbled in all directions and they landed hard on stone floor. Romey landed particularly clumsily, his knees went out from under him and he fell forward onto his hands, his nose barely an inch from smacking straight into the floor. He felt sick, like he had spent an hour or two too long on one of those spinning rides at amusement parks, he barely had time to pull himself off the floor and to run to a trash can and throw up the burrito he had just eaten. He had barely finished puking when he was elbowed out of the way by other travelers who needed the trash can too due to similar reactions to the portkey.

He picked up his luggage with shaking hands and wiped a little sweat off his forehead, he looked up a Snape, who seemed to be unaffected by the trip.

"Some people that I know are going to meet us here soon," Snape said. "You should probably try to clean yourself up a little."

Romey turned away because he was trying to resist the urge to hit this man. Hard. In the face. Instead, he forced "okay" out through his grinding teeth. "I'm going to go use the bathroom." He walked to the bathroom, listening to all the strange accents, they were really hard to understand no matter how hard he listened. Their words were fast and bunched together and there were weird sounds that surprised him, he had always thought that his English was pretty good, but this was so much different. He hadn't realized how confusing this language would be and he doubted that any of them knew any Spanish.

He entered the bathroom and splashed water on his face, he stared at his face in the mirror. In truth he didn't look very good, his face was splotchy and his eyes seemed to have sunk into the dark circles around them. He rubbed his face with the cool water and dried it with the sleeve of his tshirt because the bathroom didn't have anything else to dry with.

With one last glance at his reflection he left the bathroom and made his way back to Snape, as he approached he saw that Snape was standing next to people and talking to them. These must be the ones that he was talking about, Romey thought with a sinking sensation in his stomach, he hoped that they wouldn't be the same as Snape.

He walked up to Snape and his friends, one of which was a tall black man and the other a short young woman with purple hair. "Hi," he said lamely as he approached.

Snape was talking to them but stopped mid-sentence, "Ah, yes, this is my-" awkward pause, "This is Jerome."

"Jerome," Romey corrected, Snape had mispronounced his name. It was supposed to have a Spanish pronunciation so it sounded more like Herome, even though it was spelled with a J. "It's pronounced Jerome."

"No it's not," Snape said. "My cousin was named Jerome, she always said that she liked that name."

Romey glared at him, "Well she told me that-"

Snape cut him off, "Let's discuss this later." He gestured to his friends, "This is Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks."

Romey nodded to each of them in turn. "Uh, hi." He stood there awkwardly, manners were never that high of a priority for him to learn in California and now he wished that they had at least been mentioned because he felt awkward and stupid standing here staring at them dumbly. They looked a little uncomfortable too, they kept looking back and forth between Romey and Snape.

"Call me Tonks," Nymphadora said, she had a really bad accent and Romey hoped that he was understanding her correctly.

"Okay," Romey replied, he wanted to tell her that she could call him Romey, but Snape was glaring at him and he didn't want to get into the name argument again.

"So we were thinking that maybe you would like to stay with some people that I know," Snape said, "so you won't get bored alone at my house. I'm going to be away on business a lot until school starts."

Romey looked to Kingsley Shacklebolt and then back to Tonks, they seemed alright. Kingsley was a little intimidating but Tonks looked like someone he could get along with, but it didn't really matter because he knew that if he was stuffed into Snape's house alone for more than an hour he would lose it. Not much could be worse than alone in Snape's house.

"Sure, whatever," he replied.

"Good," Snape said. "Well, Kingsley and I have things to attend to, but Nymphadora-"

"Tonks," she snapped.

"Tonks," he said with distaste, "Could surely bring you there herself. I will only be two or three hours and I will meet you there."

"Okay." Romey nodded. He adjusted his bags and shifted his feet, "See you then I guess."

Snape gave him a sharp nod and handed all his luggage to Tonks, "Alright." That was all he said and then he startled walking, Kingsley Shacklebolt said "Nice to have met you," over his shoulder and then they disappeared into the crowd. They were gone less than ten seconds before Tonks started laughing. Not just laughing, but practically howling and crying with laughter. People who were walking by glanced nervously at her.

"What?" Romey asked nervously. "What's so funny?"

She was laughing too hard to answer at first, then could finally choke out an answer. "Snape as a father. I can't believe it."

"Why not?"

"Is that how it's been this whole time?" she asked, "The awkward silences and Snape not even knowing your proper name?"

Romey shrugged. "Yeah. Basically. I even pretended to be asleep earlier so I wouldn't have to try to come up with conversation."

She smiled and chuckled a little, "No one really knew what it was going to be like, you know, between you too, but we didn't know that it was going to be quite so bad."

"It's not so bad," Romey said, though he really just wanted to tell her about how poorly Snape was treating. He wanted to ramble to her about how painfully awkward it was, but he didn't want to be such a whiner. He was happy to be in London and have somewhere to stay, regardless of the circumstances. "And I'm not even sure that he's my dad."

"You're not sure?" Tonks said, "Why not? Okay, dumb question. I won't pry. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," he replied, "The trip over here made me sick, I had to puke in a trash can, so I could go for some water too."

"I've heard that long portkey trips are rough," she said as she started to walk.

Romey walked with her, her accent was really hard to understand and he had to concentrate just to hear her words. "They are. So you've never been to the States?"

"Nope," she answered. "To tell you the truth, I am surprised that you're American."

"I'm Hispanic or whatever, but definitely American," he said. "There are a lot of us. Especially in California. Especially in Southern California."

She shrugged, "Yeah, I didn't even think about your mum's side. When I heard about you I just pictured a miniature Snape I guess."

Romey laughed, they talked and laughed out to the street and they walked for about twenty minutes in relaxed conversation. They arrived at some street, Romey didn't know where he was being led, but Tonks seemed to know where she was going. He was watching the skyline for famous London landmarks, but he didn't get any glimpses of anything but anonymous housing buildings.

"This is the street," she said, stopping on the corner of a street. Romey was staring at the cars passing, he was trying to get over how strange the cars were. They were driving on the wrong side of the road, it really was weirder than he thought it could be.

"So, where's the place that we're headed?" Romey asked, noticing that they were just stopped here on this street corner.

"We have to wait for someone here," she smiled at Romey's confused expression, "Just trust me."

This was a little sketchy, but so was going to another continent with someone who was probably his father even though he had never met him before in his life so this wasn't even concerning really. They weren't waiting long when there was a loud pop and an elderly man was standing directly in front of Romey, he was barely a few inches from his face, he jumped backwards and ducked slightly instinctively.

The old man chuckled, "Easy there," he said in a soft, distant voice as he reached out a gnarled hand to steady Romey.

Romey straightened and tried to regain his composure. "Shit," he breathed out through his teeth.

"I'm sorry to have startled you," the old man said, "My name is Albus Dumbledore, I am a friend of your father's."

"We don't know for sure that he's my father," Romey muttered softly.

"And you are?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Jerome, mostly I go by Romey though," he said. He made it a point to pronounce his name correctly now that Snape wasn't around, this made Tonks chuckle quietly.

"And do you use your mother's last name?"

"Yeah, it's Gonzales," Romey replied.

"G-O-N-Z-A-L-E-S?" Dumbledore asked, "I only ask because I am taking the liberty of enrolling you in Hogwarts this next school year."

"Oh, okay, yeah," Romey fumbled around for words.

"You are planning on staying with us so long, correct?"

His head bobbed up and down even though he wasn't entirely sure, he didn't really have anywhere else to go but who could really tell with how quickly his world was changing now. "Yeah, sure."

"What year are you?" Dumbledore started walking down the street as he talked.

"Uh, year?"

"What year? You know, like fourth, fifth, sixth," Tonks said, very unhelpfully. Romey turned around to give her look, and when he turned around again he saw that the buildings were moving, they were sliding sideways and another building was rising to fil the space. Romey's eyes grew, this was serious magic, he wondered for the first time who this Albus Dumbledore really was.

"Wait, why are you enrolling me at this school?" was the closest Romey could come to asking about Dumbledore.

"I am the Headmaster," he replied simply.

Romey was kind of sure he knew what that meant, but he didn't have the guts to ask for clarification. "Oh. Okay." The other two were already walking toward the house, Romey trailed after them.

"How old are you, Romey?" Dumbledore asked as they approached the front door and slid it open. The front hall was eerie to say the least, it was dark and the wallpaper was dried and cracked. Romey wondered if this was the part of a horror movie where everyone was thinking "how could he be dumb enough to go in there?"

"Uh, just turned fifteen," he answered slowly because his mind was focused on reaching for his wand. He wasn't sure how it worked in England, but in America going into dark, rundown houses with strangers usually spelled disaster.

Tonks smiled, "Well, that was simple, you're a fifth year."

"Super," Romey said without any enthusiasm. He was looking up at the objects nailed to the wall above him, as he got closer he began to realize that they were heads, but not normal heads. "What are those?" he asked, pointing at them with the hand that wasn't gripping his wand.

"House elves, well, what's left of them," Tonks replied merrily. "Weird, huh?"

Romey stared at her, "Weird would be an understatement. That's some sick shit."

"Watch your language, please, Romey," Dumbledore said.

He shrugged off the scolding and keeping his eyes fixed on the heads, he continued down the hall. They came to a door and Dumbledore pushed it open, there was the muffled sound of voices just in the room and Romey knew that there would be more people to meet.


	8. Ch 8: Unenthusiastic and Largely Unwelco

_and heeeeere it is_

**Ch 8: Unenthusiastic and Largely Unwelcoming**

ROMEY STEPPED FORWARD, half pushed by Tonks, and looked around the room. There was a long table surrounded by a group composed mostly of kids his own age. He blinked, he certainly hadn't been expecting this. For some reason he had been expecting people more Snape's age and type, but he wasn't going to object to the surprise.

"Hi," he said, looking at all their faces. They were all staring at him with wide eyes, surprised eyes, like he had grown a tail.

There was kind of a loud, group mutter of "hello" but it was unenthusiastic and largely unwelcoming. Dumbledore took this opportunity to excuse himself, Tonks went with him, which disappointed Romey because he had rather liked Tonks. He stood there awkwardly by himself, still clutching his mismatched luggage and staring at these people who were staring back at him in not the most friendly of fashions.

"So, _you're_ Snape's son?" a red haired one asked, he had an exact duplicate of himself sitting beside him. Romey didn't have the slightest idea how he was going to be able to tell them apart.

"Well-" Romey trailed off. Was it worse to Snape's son or not to know? He hesitated for a moment, and luckily the other twin jumped in and saved Romey from having to make some sort of awkward explanation.

"And you're an American?"

Romey nodded, this was beginning to feel like an interrogation.

"You don't look like one," said a slightly younger looking red haired boy. Romey didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he thought that he might be the twins' brother.

"I wasn't aware that there was a particular way for an American to look," Romey said, he was definitely feeling some animosity here. "Or do you mean that I'm not white?"

The red haired boy shrugged and looked around guilty. "No, that isn't it," he said.

"Then what is it?" Romey snapped.

"I thought that you would be fatter," one of the twins piped up.

The other laughed, "And have a cheeseburger in your hand. Or maybe we thought that you would look more-"

"-like Snape," the other finished. "You know, with the long black hair, pallid skin,-"

"-greasy," the other said with a laugh. The other kids laughed too, besides the three red haired boys there was a red haired girl and a girl with wild brown hair. She was sending the others disapproving glances but was laughing slightly, then trying to suppress it.

"Yeah, we've been wondering what Snape's offspring could possibly look like for hours now," a red haired twin said. "We were more concerned, however, about who would possibly mate with Snape by choice." They all snickered at this.

It twisted a fresh wound to hear this about his mom, he wanted to say something angry in reply, but he knew that it wouldn't kill the feeling that burning up his insides and crawling up his throat. He knew that didn't have anything to say to these people, he hated their smug laughter and he was just about to turn around and walk out of the room when the door opened. In walked a plump red haired woman wearing a flowered apron, when she saw Romey she stopped in her tracks.

"Oh my, you are here already," she exclaimed, "I wasn't expecting you so soon."

Awkward pause because Romey didn't know what to say, he was still trying to get his feelings about the comment about his mom under control. He swallowed and pushed it down, promising himself to deal with it later.

"I'm Molly Weasley," she said, "And you must be…?"

"Romey Gonzales," he supplied. He noticed that the other people in the room hadn't even asked his name before they started ripping him apart.

"Ah, well, that's just splendid, we're so glad to have you," she sent looks to the others at the table that were staring at him in not the most friendly manner. She smiled back at Romey, "Have you met everyone?"

"We've been talking, they really are a charming group of people." He was careful to not to sound too sarcastic.

"Well, this is Fred, George, Ronald or Ron, Ginny, and Hermione," she pointed at them all in turn, but Romey had almost instantly forgotten all of their names. "They are all mine, except for Hermione of course. But the red hair should give that away."

He nodded, "Yeah."

"Are you hungry or thirsty?" Mrs. Weasley asked, "I can fix something up for you."

"No, thanks," he said. He was hungry, but he couldn't stand to be in this room a moment longer.

"At least have some water," Mrs. Weasley said, except she said it with her thick accent so it sounded like she wanted him to have some wa-er. He blinked. He had no idea what she meant.

"Wa-er," she repeated, louder like he was deaf.

"What?" he said, still unsure.

The others were definitely laughing again, one of the twins had said something so his mom could hear but the others certainly did and they thought that it was really funny.

"Wa-er," she said.

"No. Thanks." He finally realized that she was just saying water. The others were still laughing, he just wanted to turn and yell at them, English was not his first language. He would like to see them try to speak Spanish, then who would be laughing? "I just want to lie down for a bit, if that's okay."

"Oh of course, the time difference must be a hard change to make," she said brightly.

"Yeah," Romey replied, though he had been preoccupied enough not to notice so far.

"Let me show you to your room," she bustled out of the kitchen and Romey followed, sending the people at the table a nasty glare before leaving. Mrs. Weasley led him up a set of stairs and down a poorly lit hallway and stopped in front of a door. "Alright then, this will be your room while you are here. I was going to change the curtains, but there just wasn't enough time. You know how things get so busy, but we can do it tomorrow if you'd like."

"Sure, I mean whatever, if there's time, I don't care," he said and he really didn't care. The room was already old and creepy, he couldn't believe that he was expected to spend any significant amount of time in here. There was a rotting wardrobe and a bed that he was quite sure had mold growing on it or was it moss? Either way it was gross.

"Anyways, toilet down the hall," Mrs. Weasley was rambling. "Anything else you need?"

"Uh, no thanks," Romey said. "I'm just going to go to sleep awhile."

She nodded, "Alright then, just come down if you are hungry."

"Sure thing," Romey replied as he kicked off his battered sneakers. Mrs. Weasley bent to pick them up and set them neatly by the door.

She took a long look at them as she set them down, "Is that blood on your trainers?"

"Yep," Romey replied, crawling into the moldy bed and throwing the blanket over his head, "Got in a fight." He didn't tell her, however, that the 'fight' was more like him getting beat up. Details, detail. He relaxed his muscles and almost instantly his eyelids felt heavy enough that they were able to slide closed on their own accord.


	9. Ch 9: Not an Accident

_Thanks to everyone who is reading, suscribing, and commenting!! Keep it up :)_

**Ch 9: Not an Accident**

HE DIDN'T KNOW when Mrs. Weasley left the room or when he actually fell asleep, but when he woke up it was dark outside the small round window that was mounted in the wall across the room from his bed. He figured that he should probably get up now that he was awake and he crawled out of the bed, throwing the questionable blankets back on the bed. They really stank like someone had died in them. Recently.

He tread across the floor to where his bags were lying in a messy pile and sorted through them, looking for one in particular. He found the gym bag at the bottom of the pile and unzipped it, he dug through it, feeling for his flip flops with his fingertips. Instead, he felt the crinkling surface of paper, frowning he pulled it out of his bag. It was the envelope that he had gotten from one of his mom's friends from work at her funeral, he had completely forgotten about it until now.

He tried to remember who had given it to him, but he couldn't really recall. It was one of the people at her funeral and he had been so distracted that he had barely paid attention. Shrugging, he looked down at the envelope only to see that one side had been half ripped open. He knew that he had not been the one to rip it open because he had completely forgotten about it until just now, he thought for a moment, trying to think who would have done it.

Snape! Snape had had a lot of time alone with his bags, had he been going through his stuff? The thought made a fresh flare of anger light within him, he reached back into his gym bag with increased fury and pulled out his flip flops.

He was barely able to throw them on the floor and stick his feet in them because he was so furious that he couldn't see straight, once they were on he flew out of his room and down the hall with the envelope clenched in one fist. A group of the red haired kids were gathered in the hall, they were all leaning around a string intently and when he approached they motioned for him to be quiet.

"Is Snape here?" Romey snapped at them.

"Yeah, he's downstairs in the kitchen," one that he was fairly sure that he hadn't met before said. He had messy black hair and round glasses perched on his nose.

A red haired one made a "shh"ing noise and leaned back towards the string. "We're trying to hear what they are saying and not let them hear us!" a skinny redhaired boy hissed at him.

Romey whipped around and started tromping down the stairs, his flip flops clearly echoing inside the old house.

"Shut up you prat," a red haired twin called after him, but Romey didn't even turn. He marched up to the kitchen doors and pounded on the door. There was the murmur of voices, then a silence, followed by Mrs. Weasley calling out "who is it?"

"I need to talk to Snape," Romey shouted at the closed door.

"Oh dear, we're kind of in the middle of something here. Can it wait?" she replied.

Romey resisted the urge to pound on the door again, "No. No it really can't." His hand was shaking he was so angry, he wondered what would happen if he just barged in and punched Snape in the face. Luckily before he could act on the urge, the door swung open and Snape's dark head poked out.

"Yes?" he asked, his teeth didn't even move. "You are interrupting something rather important."

Romey slapped him on the chest with his envelope, "Well I know that I'm not important to you, but I don't know who you think you are, that you can just open my stuff at whim."

Snape grabbed him by the wrist with one hand and used the other to pry the envelope from his fingers. "What is this?"

"It was in my stuff and you opened it," Romey almost yelled, trying to yank his wrist away from Snape, who was gripping it too tightly.

"I did not open any of your things," Snape said coolly, "Now, we need to find somewhere a little more appropriate to talk about this if you're going to behave this way."

"Don't talk to me like that," Romey replied, pulling his wrist away and reaching for the envelope at the same time. "Like you're my dad or something, because you're not- You may be part of my genes but that's all-" he was cut off by Snape practically throwing him back into a living room.

"Not out in the hallway," he snapped as he followed Romey into the room and slammed the door behind him. "Out there, everyone is listening."

"I don't care!" Romey shouted, "This isn't about anyone else. This is about you and me. You can't be some deadbeat dad and then show up and start going through my stuff, that's not how it works, kay?"

Snape raised an eyebrow, "Deadbeat dad? Is that truly your opinion of me?"

"Yeah," Romey said, "You ain't any different than any of the other guys back home. You may think you're better than everyone with your fancy little accent or whatever, but you're not. You're just like any other drunk, unemployed, or whatever else is wrong with you, deadbeat dad."

Snape's face screwed up in an expression that was full of hatred, Romey was momentarily shocked into silence. Snape held up the envelope, "All this because of this?" he ripped it the rest of the way open. "I didn't open it before, but now I'm going to."

Romey leapt at him with an animal snarl, but Snape was quicker than he looked and he shoved him back over a low sitting couch, which Romey tumbled over and landed on the other side with a loud thump. He pulled himself to his feet to see Snape leaning over the contents of the package.

"Where did you get this?" he said, not looking up from the opened package. "This magic is too strong for you."

Romey jumped over the couch to look at what Snape had in his hand, as he neared he saw that Snape was holding a necklace in his open hand. It was a simple square piece of wood on a leather strap, but there were small runes carved into the wood. "I can't read all of it, but I can read this rune. It says that the necklace can't be removed once you put it on. Because it can never be removed after you put it on, you will probably be buried with it around your neck. Where did you get this?"

Romey reached out his hand, "Give it to me."

"Who gave this to you?" Snape's voice was raised higher than Romey had ever heard it. "We need to be very cautious with it and I certainly forbid you to ever put it on."

Hand still outstretched, Romey repeated, "Give it to me."

Snape slipped it into his breast pocket, "I'm sorry but that would be irresponsible."

"But it's mine!"

"I don't care," Snape said, patting it pocket. "It is a dangerous artifact. I will not give it to you."

Romey lunged at him again, this time he was more prepared for Snape's quick reaction. They struggled for a moment, tipping over a small end table with various old knick knacks on it and crashing once or twice into the wall, which let out a loud creak with every blow. Romey somehow freed his hand long enough to scoop the necklace out of Snape's pocket, he rolled away before Snape could stop him.

"Don't you dare-" Snape said as he grabbed one of his arms and twisted.

Romed used the free hand to throw the necklace over his head and pull it down around his neck. He was not sure why he wanted to put this thing on so badly, in fact he figured that he would probably regret the decision, but for now he wanted so badly to piss Snape off and this was the best way that he could think of. The necklace on, Romey started to laugh, a shrill maniacal laugh that he was surprised that he could even make. "Too late!" he screamed.

What happened next was never truly sorted out in his mind, all he remembered was Snape's hand coming at his face, then an exquisite pain in his nose and face. It took him a few moments to recover, he wasn't sure if Snape said anything, but when he had regained his composure enough to sit up, Snape was gone. Luckily Snape had closed the door after him, so Romey had time to get up and fish a Kleenex out of his pocket, which he rolled up and stuck into his nose before it started bleeding to hard. He straightened the table that they had knocked over and returned the knick knacks back to their former glory, then smoothed his hair and his tshirt. He grabbed the empty envelope from the floor and tucked it under his arm. Taking a deep breath, he left the room.

Out in the hall there was a group of adults, Mrs. Weasley and Tonks among them, but fortunately not Dumbledore or the kids that were his age. He kept his head low so no one would notice the bits of Kleenex shoved up there, "Hi," he said as cheerfully as possible. "Sorry. We had a little misunderstanding, but we figured it out. Sorry to interrupt your meeting."

They all kind of stared at him for a moment. "Is everything alright?" asked Mrs. Weasley. "We couldn't hear anything through the door because Snape must have put up a silencing spell."

"Yeah, everything's fine," he replied stiffly. "Just a misunderstanding. Know what? I'm still a little tired. I think I might take a shower and then go back to bed."

"But you just slept for three hours," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Time differences I guess, it's been a long day." He pushed through the group, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone. No one said anything as he made his way up the stairs and stopped at the bathroom, the door was closed, he had a bad feeling that it was occupied. He raised his fist and knocked, his heart sunk with disappointment when a voice replied from within the bathroom.

"Be out in a minute," it said.

He sighed and leaned against the wall, his mind racing and his breath uneven and ragged. As he stood there he tried to steady himself, to keep his mind from moving too fast. How had this happened? How had Snape gone from his protector to his attacker? And so fast?

"Are you done yet?" Romey yelled at the bathroom door, "Could you possibly go any slower?" He paused, trying to get hold of his anger. For appearance's sake he forced a laugh. "I just really have to- pee," he added as casually as possible, though he really wanted nothing but to keep yelling. He wanted to scream at the door and beat on it with his fists, but he couldn't let any of this show.

"Yeah, yeah," there was a flush and then the sound of the faucet running. Not long after, the door finally swung open. It was the black haired kid with the glasses.

Romey forced a smile, "Hey man, sorry that I yelled at you. When you've got to go, you've got to go," he lied with a small smile.

The boy was just standing there, staring at him blankly. Romey smiled again, even though it was really hard to do, "I'm sure that we'll be introduced later, but now I really have to-" he trailed off because he tasted something rusty and salty in his mouth. He raised his hand and pressed his finger to his upper lip, he brought it away from his face to see, and as he feared, his fingertip was covered with dark red blood. He cursed under his breath. "Hey, man, I know this looks bad, but-"

"Is that- Was that- Did Snape-?" the other boy said, his green eyes huge behind his round glasses.

"Nah," he tried to lie, "it's nothing."

The boy was obviously not buying it. "Snape?" was all he could say.

He didn't want this boy meddling in his family business and he certainly didn't want Mrs. Weasley hovering around, concerned about Romey and Snape's "relationship." Romey would far prefer for it to be a private matter between himself and his father because outsiders never helped with anything, they just made every issue more complicated. With the hand that wasn't covering his nose, he raised a finger and pointed it at the dark haired boy, "If you tell one single person I swear that I will kill you, ya hear? One person and you are a dead man." There, he thought, with any luck that ought to keep this kid from gossiping. With that he pushed past him into the bathroom before another nosy houseguest had a chance to come along and pry further into his business.

He stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him, there was a lock that he slid into place, it was rusty but it still managed to work. Leaning over the sink, he avoided blood dripping down on to his shirt. He stared at himself in the mirror for minute, the pieces of tissue were a dark red color and blood was leaking down his upper lip in two steady flows, then trailing down his chin before freefalling and splattering into the sink. He sighed and looked down the empty envelope in his hand. A small piece of paper was half pulled out of the envelope, he tugged on it with his bloody fingertips and pulled it out. On it, written in messy handwriting was a simple sentence.

"NOT AN ACCIDENT," it read.


	10. Ch 10: The Familiar Eyes of a Stranger

THE ROOM WAS STILL, Snape was barely breathing as he stood over Jerome's bed

THE ROOM WAS STILL, Snape was barely breathing as he stood over Jerome's bed. His dark eyes flicked over his dark curls, still wet from a shower, and his strong, hooked nose. He could see so many similarities between himself and this boy, his nose, his hair, his thin frame, but the physical similarities seemed so alien because of the way that the boy dressed and carried himself. Even now, the boy was sprawled on the bed, wearing plaid pajama pants and a thin tshirt with some, presumably American, band printed on it. He was snoring slightly, his narrow chest rising and falling with each breath.

Snape couldn't believe that he had gotten angry enough to hit him like he had, when he tried to replay the event in his mind it was like he was watching a stranger. He didn't know how to reach the monster in himself that was so angry, the monster that hated the very sight of this boy because he personified everything about his life that he had failed in. Not only that, but he didn't know how to reach this boy. He was so distant, so calloused from a life that Snape knew nothing about, his trip to California had proved that to him beyond all doubt.

"Snape," a voice came from the doorway, "Are you in there?"

Not wanting to wake the boy, he stepped backwards and slipped out into the hallway. "Yes?" His eyes adjusted to the light in the hall and he saw that Sirius Black was standing before him. "Yes?" he said again, his voice more impatient this time.

"We need to talk," Sirius said.

"I've got too much to do just now," he said, moving to one side of the hall and trying to walk by, but Sirius threw up his arms to either side of the hall, stopping Snape from passing.

"No, I don't think that this can wait," Sirius replied. "It's about your boy. I think that you owe him an apology."

"Thank you for your concern in my family, but it is misplaced," Snape said stiffly.

"Snape! You miserable-" he trailed off because the door behind him was creaking open. Out stepped a disheveled Romey, his curly black hair tangled around his face and his tshirt wrinkled and worn.

"Whaddyadoing?" he asked sleepy, then muttered something in Spanish that if they were going to yell to at least take it downstairs.

"Hello, I'm Sirius Black. Are you Jerome?" he asked.

"J-erome," he corrected his pronunciation, ignoring Snape's expression. "Anyways, hi."

"I'm talking to your father about what happened tonight," Sirius said. "I'm not going to let him get away with behavior like that, especially under my roof."

"Yeah, about that-" Romey said, "Actually, can I talk to you, alone?"

Snape watched as Sirius literally puff up with pride that he was being trusted by Snape's son, and that it meant that Snape was being a terrible father. Snape resisted the urge to take out his wand as they walked back into Romey's room and shut the door.

He paced in front of the door for about ten minutes, growing more and more impatient with every step. He had no idea what they could possibly be talking about, especially for so long. He was picturing Jerome telling Black his whole weepy, sniveling life story about life without a father and Black nodding understandingly and planning how to become the godfather of Snape's poor, mistreated son and it was completely infuriating. He was about to rip his own hair out of his head when the door finally opened, Black stepped out of the room, giving Snape a look that he really couldn't discern. Then he continued down the hall without a word, Snape stood there, watching him walk away, too stunned to say anything.

"Hey," Romey said, leaning against the frame of his door. "So, I talked with Mr. Black there and I didn't rat you out or anything."

Snape stared at him, what was he talking about?

"I figure that whatever happened earlier, happened between you and me so that's the way it should stay." He shrugged, "So I just told him that we got into a scuff over the necklace and then I fell headfirst into a table. I'm not sure if he was entirely convinced, but since it won't happen again it shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"Of course not," Snape said, he wanted to sound more sure. He wanted his voice to be so convincing that the uneasy, skeptical expression on Jerome's face would melt away. "I must apologize for earlier, I was completely out of order." While that was a sentimental as he could muster, it really didn't change Jerome's expression, it only made him cross his arms over his chest and shrug.

"Yeah, sure, I'm going back to bed," he said and disappeared back into his room. Snape opened his mouth to say "good night" but the words froze to his lips, he stood there awkwardly for a moment, then gave up and shuffled down the hall.


End file.
